


Freak

by misunderstoodreference



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Feels, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Kid Sherlock, M/M, Smut, Wholock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11888169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misunderstoodreference/pseuds/misunderstoodreference
Summary: Sherlock has grown up with the words "Freak" and "Psychopath" constantly screamed into his ears, so when the 11th Doctor visits him and treats him with respect and kindness, Sherlock regains a little faith in humanity. However, the Doctor never visits him again, and Sherlock realizes that everyone will leave him one way or another.Then one day he hears a familiar wheezing sound outside 221B.





	Freak

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guyys  
> This is my first fic so I'm gonna need as much info and feedback as possible!  
> Hope you enjoy :)

CHAPTER ONE

He sat in the middle of his chaotic room, fists buried deep inside his dark curls, brows furrowed, lips trembling. 

“Freak!”  
“Liar, nobody wants to be friends with you!”  
“How do you know that, stalker?”

He didn’t know, he saw.

It was something Sherlock couldn’t understand; while the world lay in front of him like an open book, it remained a blurry scramble of squiggles for those who chose not to observe.  
“I am NOT a freak.” He spat back bitterly. “I can tell by the cuffs of your shirt, the state of your knees, and the callouses on your hands.” The kids snickered mercilessly at this.  
“Right, just like how you knew about Lucy’s schnauzer from the ‘hems of her jeans’. Face it, Sherlock, you’re a freak that stalks people to try and seem smart, but it’s not fooling anyone.” An obese boy taunted. Before Sherlock could open his mouth to explain his deductions, another boy’s fist had already flown into his flushing cheeks.  
As Sherlock fell to the floor, his mind went racing, gears turning intensely.  
Interesting.  
Steady, accurate punch. The boy that hit him had shown signs of irritable bruises, abusive parents, maybe? That would explain the bullying. But someone that physically stable and able to throw such an accurate blow couldn’t have been abused, so it was most likely he was taking… boxing classes? Following his dad’s actions, makes sense. He often talked about his father, how he was so great, how he wanted to be ‘just like him’.  
Role models. A stupid, stupid concept conceived inside the brain to guide idiotic children who didn’t know how to live their meaningless lives.  
Either that, or Sherlock really was a freak.  
His brother Mycroft’s words echoed in his brain as his vision started to clear up.  
“Brother mine, you’re not a freak. We’re different, but we’re also better.”  
Sherlock stumbled to his feet and glared at his classmates. His chest was heaving. Sweat was dripping off of him. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white.  
“I…AM… NOT…. A FREAK!!!!!!!” He yelled, every ounce of anger pouring out of him. He leaped onto the leader of the gang, kicking and pulling and using every fighting tactic he had ever read.  
The tiny 6-year-old took down 4 kids, making each of them scurry away with tear-stained cheeks.  
“SHERLOCK!” a loud stern voice yelled from across the playground. Ms. Ackerman and a few other teachers came strutting towards them, their faces each painted with the same glare; cold, angry, and directed toward Sherlock.  
As Ms. Ackerman dragged Sherlock tightly by the arm, he looked back to see the bullies being coddled by other teachers. The boxing boy who punched him noticed Sherlock, and mouthed ‘FREAK’, no doubt enjoying the foul words Ms. Ackerman was throwing at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock read relentlessly, page after page, hour by hour. He wasn’t a freak. He wasn’t a psychopath. He didn’t need psychiatric help, he just needed… to find out what he was.  
Sherlock was so engulfed in his studies that he barely noticed the loud, wheezing noise outside his window. He finally raised his head in confusion and darted his eyes around.  
“No car makes that sound, and the nearest train tracks aren’t until another 40 miles away.” He muttered, hopping up from the ground to peer out the window. His bones cracked as he stood up from sitting so long, but he couldn’t care less when he saw what was outside his bedroom window.  
It was 2 in the morning, no one, not even Mycroft was awake. Sherlock tiptoed down the stairs of his house and reached for the front door, when he saw Redbeard blinking his chocolate brown eyes at him. The little boy smiled weakly and went over to the dog to gently scratch those floppy, velvet ears.  
“I’ll be back soon, I promise, Redbeard. We’ll play pirates later.”  
And with that, Sherlock shrugged on his favorite blue trench coat over his white button-up and pushed through the wooden doors.  
A blue box labeled ‘Police Public Call Box’ lay in front of him, a dim light-bulb radiating on top.  
“This box is from the 1960’s…” Sherlock deduced. “What is it doing here?”  
He walked cautiously around the strange box, unable to deduce anything else.  
“A box can’t move by itself, where did it come from?!” Sherlock exclaimed with a sigh, looking at the floor in frustration very near giving up on his observations.  
“I beg to differ!” a voice came. Sherlock’s head perked up to see a funny-chinned man glaring at him with an angry pout, sticking his head out of the box.  
“AH!” Sherlock cried, stumbling back a few steps but regaining his diligence soon after.  
“How’d you get in my front yard?” he consulted, observing the strange man carefully.  
“Well I wanted to see you, of course!” the man said. “I’m just surprised I got the TARDIS to land so accurately.”  
“I’m sorry, the TARDIS?” Sherlock replied, stepping closer, full of eagerness to learn about this machine, though fully ready to put up a fight if needed.  
“Yep! Stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Come on in, she’s beautiful!”  
The little boy gaped at this remark. Ignoring all ‘stranger danger’ lectures and the few morals he had, Sherlock stepped inside the TARDIS with no inhibitions.

The warm embrace of the main console room was nourishing after facing the harsh winds of the night, and Sherlock shuddered beneath his coat as his eyes widened.  
It’s bigger… on the inside.” Was all he was able to mutter out, despite the frenzy of confusion and wonder swirling inside his head.  
“Pretty neat, eh?” the man replied. “Time Lord technology.”  
He was neatly dressed, with a light pink button up, a tweed blazer, and a cute little red bowtie.  
Not sure what to say, Sherlock said “N-nice… bowtie,  
The man seemed extremely delighted by this, and straightened his accessory with a beaming smile. “Yeah. I like bowties. Bowties are cool. I’m the Doctor, by the way.”  
“Doctor Who?”  
The man beamed at this too. “Ah, I get that a lot. Just the Doctor please.” He smiled. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, Sherlock Holmes. You might want to hold onto these rails, cause I’m about to show you the best time of your life.”  
Before Sherlock could even mutter a word of protest, the Doctor had already starting kicking levers, pressing buttons, and dancing wildly inside the TARDIS.  
“GERONIMO!” He shouted, and then the wheezing sound came, along with the world’s  
un-safest rollercoaster. The 6 year-old grabbed onto whatever he could as the TARDIS rattled and shook wildly. The Doctor, on the other hand, was laughing manically as he hit his head on a nearby pole.  
“This is the life!” he shouted, voice barely audible over the loud noise of the TARDIS, the same one Sherlock heard outside his bedroom window. Sherlock was too terrified to say anything as he hung onto a fence for dear life, curls flapping in front of his face, constantly blinding him. Luckily, this terrifying experience lasted less than a minute, and even after that, Sherlock still clung on to fence. The Doctor, however, sprung up, full of energy.  
How on earth does he do that? Quickly cleaning himself up by straightening his bowtie and running his fingers through his moppy hair, the Doctor opened up the doors of the TARDIS and motioned for Sherlock to look outside. The 6 year old, while tougher than most, shook as he stumbled towards the Doctor, fingers fidgeting inside the pocket of his oversized trench coat. 

The sight of what was outside the TARDIS made him weak to his knees. He saw the Earth – HIS Earth, laying right in front of him like a marble.  
“Is this some.. movie?” Sherlock stuttered, not sure how to translate what his eyes were seeing for his brain, But this was way too real. The earth was right there. For the first time in his life, he was completely at loss for words.  
“This is a space-ship, sort of.” The Doctor replied, sitting at the TARDIS door with his feet hanging off into the abyss. Sherlock sat down and joined him, stubby legs nowhere near the length of the Doctor’s.  
Sherlock chuckled at the absurdity of his situation. “The kids at school will never believe this.”  
The Doctor smiled and ruffled Sherlock’s hair. “Oh, Sherlock. You didn’t either before I showed you.”  
They sat in silence for a while, until the Doctor got up and pushed a few levers. The TARDIS then started to cruise around space at a fast, yet relaxing speed. He then sat back down next to Sherlock with a bowl of fish fingers and custard.  
“Want some?” he asked, mouth already stuffed. Sherlock hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and promptly took a fish finger and dipped it into the custard.  
It was… surprisingly good. Soon their stomachs were all full and the bowl was empty, and a 6 year-old had already seen more of space then any astronaut will likely ever see.

 

“Sherlock?” the Doctor suddenly said, breaking the silence. Sherlock turned his head to look into the Doctor’s eyes, waiting for him to continue. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”  
Sherlock nodded, but the truth was, he didn’t know. He was almost completely convinced that he was a freak, a freak the world didn’t need. The Doctor could tell he didn’t believe him.  
“You want to know why I chose to visit you, Sherlock? Because in the future, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, you’re a great person. A brilliant person. I shouldn’t say what for, but know that in 900 years of time and space, I have never met anyone that wasn’t important. And Sherlock,” he said gently, lifting up the little boy’s chin so his blue grey eyes met his. “You are most definitely important.”  
The 6 year-old blinked back tears and nodded. “Okay.”

The Doctor responded by jumping off the edge of the TARDIS.  
Sherlock was surprised, but only flinched a little as not much could scare him at this point. A moment later, the Doctor floated up with his arms flapping. Sherlock giggled at how ludicrous it was.  
“THE TARDIS HAS AN ANTI-GRAVITY AIR BUBBLE, ITS PERFECTLY SAFE!” he motioned clumsily for Sherlock to join him, but only resulted in a somersault.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know, it's really short. Forgive me.  
> Hope you enjoyed that first chapter! Please comment your opinions and what I could improve on <3


End file.
